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Princess's story
I am often disregarded as the kitty pet at the Twolegplace. The foolish coward that Rusty's... or should I say Firestar's?... kin. And sometimes it feels like the Clans are right - maybe I truly am just a spoilt, pampered kittypet living with my every need tossed to me by Twolegs. But I have a story too. While Firestar is out fighting ShadowClan and Cloudtail is out hunting rabbits, I have not been idly wondering how they are getting on. Twolegs can give me food, but they take away my freedom, like a twittering bird trapped in a cage while it watches it's sibllings soaring in the wide blue sky. Kittypet life isn't all soft pampering. Let me explain... __________________________________________________________ "You're okay, Nuttie! Listen, it's all okay, Nutmeg. Honest." Still condemmed to the darkness of blindess, the first words I hear are distant and somewhat vague. They make no sense to my newly created mind, but they carry stress and sorrow. I do not know where I am or who Nuttie is, but the frantic tone of the speaker's voice unsettles me. Even as a tiny kit, I can sense tension in the air and it scares me. Some deep natural instinct tells me to find my mother, and I obey it willingly. But I can find no warm she-cat to snuggle against. "That's... all of them." the she-cat I that I seek so desperately mews. I move close to her, only to be shoved roughly aside by a seemingly undefeatable force. It is one of my littermates. "What will you call them?" a tom asks eagerly. A shady, hazy version of the world almost overwhelms me as my sight comes. It takes a heartbeat to be able to focus, and then another few heartbeats to recover from the shock of seeing the world for the first time. Bright, vivid colours flood my eyes as I try to take in everything at once. I am lying on a soft, brightly coloured thing with a few tiny creatures. Larger versions of the creatures gather round us. I realize that I am one of these strange beings as well, and study my littermates closely. We have sharp, pointy-things at the ends of our paws, and skinny sticks that keep us on our feet. The older cats purr when they see that my eyes have finally opened. "Where was that little fighter... the one that shoved her littermate over? You know, the big tabby she-cat." the tom mews. "Oh, you mean that one? She looks like a little warrior already, doesn't she, Jake?" Nutmeg looks straight past me and gazes at the kit that pushed me when I tried to find my mother. "Be careful, Nuttie, or she might end up joining the wildcats or something!" Jake teases. I wait for their attention to turn to me, but it doesn't. "I'm going to call her Warrior." my mother decides. Finally, she's going to coo over me! "You see the white tom with the brown paws? I'm calling him Pepper. Don't you agree that he looks just like a Pepper?" to my disappointment, the spotlight turns to a sturdy little kit by my side. "Oh, isn't this one cute? Look at those eyes. I'm calling her Princess." I look round to see who she's talking to, but then realize that she is looking at me. This is somewhat satisfactory. "Mut....meg..." I stutter, copying Jake's easy mew. The plump ginger tom yowls with laughter, and Nutmeg looks amused. "Call me Mother. Mo...ther." she mews slowly for me to understand. I decide not to copy her; I'm too hungry. "Nutmeg, I'm so sorry! It's a stillborn! No, two stillborns." Jake mews suddenly. I look at my final littermates- identical ginger kits. They aren't moving. The only difference between them is that the bigger one has one white paw and his pelt is a little paler. Apart from that, they are impossible to tell apart. "Don't be silly, Jake. He's just sleeping." Nutmeg mews quickly, poking my siblings with her paw. The bigger one shakily plants her paws into the soft quilt, his eyes not yet open. "I think I'll call her Flame, after his coat." she mews, relief shining in her eyes. I look at the other kit. He whines but doesn't move. Curious to see what is wrong with him, I try nipping his scruff. He paws me pathetically. "Fight back!" Jake hisses. The kit simply mews, dazed. "What a disappointment." he mutters. "He's not a disappointment, Jake. For all you know, this might be the kit that joins the wildcats." Nutmeg snaps. Jake rolls his eyes. "Sure, and I might be the cat that defeats BloodClan. Admit it, Nuttie. He's no good. Name him Weakling, for all I care." Jake snaps, stalking out of the room. Nutmeg hisses. "Don't worry, Rusty. I'll teach you to be a great cat. Warrior, Pepper, Princess, Flame, Rusty... you're all going to do great things." Nutmeg mews. Sighing contentedly, I close my eyes as sleep claims me. _____________________________________________________________________ Twolegs make weird sounds, don't they? Us cats, we tend to keep to the same noises when we communicate. But Twolegs just mouth a loud of gibberish. Sometimes spouting an "ooo" sound, often squeaking an "ee" sound, even hissing a "th" sound... I often wonder if they actually understand each other or if they make noises for the fun of it. "ee....aaa...vvvv...errrr...yyyyy....hhh...e...aaaaaa...lll..thhh...yyy....ki....tt...e...nn." a Cutter with a long white pelt babbles. "ddd...aan...kkk...y..ooooo...." one of my housefolk, a Twoleg kit with yellow fur on her head and sky-blue eyes replies. We all call her Yellowhead, partly because her head is yellow and partly because she spends so much time fussing over the yellow on her head. She treats us kindly but can be overly fussy at times. I roll my eyes at Pepper, who squeaks in agreeance. Pepper agrees with everything and anyone, even if they're contradicting each other. I never know what he's really thinking. "Watch out, fluff-brain!" a familiar form thrusts into me. Claws tear at my pelt, stinging me. I try to wriggle free but my sister's teeth close round my throat, and beads of blood fall to the ground. Feeling queasy, I slump to the floor of the cage-thing. Warrior hits me round the head once, twice, three times. I can't fight back. How far will she go? Will she kill me? "Ouch!" I howl. Making weird ''tt, tt ''noises, the Cutter grabs Warrior by the scruff and carries her to the wooden block where he inspects us. I watch, horrified, as he explains something to Yellowhead, who wails and clings to her mother (who we nicknamed Fussface). I try to see what is happening but all I can see is Yellowhead's tears and Fussface's sympathetic glances at Warrior. "It's the Needle. Mother told me about this. They put it into newborn kits who act wildly, and they fall asleep. No cat knows for how long." Flame mutters lowly. I stare, round eyed, at my sister. This is all my fault! I think of how proud Nutmeg seems when she looks at us, how her eyes glow with love whenever see looks at us. Will she hate me for fighting Warrior so feebly? __________________________________________________________________________ "...and then he pulled out a huge, HUGE claw, a MILLION times bigger than Quince's. And the Cutter stabbed Warrior right in the leg. She was screeching at us to help but we were stuck. There wasn't any blood, it was as if the Cutter was putting something into her. Sure enough, her breathing slowed down and she went to sleep." Flame mews excitedly for the millionth time. Mother's eyes are pools of misery. "Why didn't you save her?" she whispers. I stare at the ground. "He had a sharp, sharp claw. He would have poked us too." Rusty mews fearfully. Pepper nods, Flame rolls her eyes and I stare unresponsively out of the window. It's winter but it's far too warm inside our house. Little flakes of white are starting to trickle from the sky, but I don't squeal with excitement or yowl in fear (in Rusty's case). "My kit, my little kit. My fighter. Where are you, my daughter?" Nutmeg murmurs. Their energy returning, Pepper and Flame bound away to play with one of those itchy fluff-balls that drive Fussface crazy. I'm too sick at heart to do anything but sit still. Rusty is squealing in terror, as usual. "Nuts!" a familiar voice hisses. A plump ginger tom strolls out from Yellowhead's sitting place. "What are you doing here? Your housefolk will be wondering where you are." my mother gasps, but I can tell she is glad that he is here. "They'll be fine. So, how are the kits?" he mewed contentedly. Nutmeg winced. "I swear there's less than before. Has one of them eaten the rest already, huh? Must've been hungry." the ginger tomcat continues. I think he's joking but who can tell? He's always been a bit weird around Nutmeg. I can see that she likes him a lot by the way her eyes go all shiny whenever she sees him. But he acts pretty much the same around her as he'd act around any of his friends. "Princess killed Warrior!" Flame pipes up. Rusty whines and tries to hide behind Pepper, who nods dazedly. "Don't be stupid, little kit. Wasn't Warrior like... that really big ginger tom?" he rolls his eyes. "Yeah." Pepper squeaks, even though Warrior was a brown tabby she-cat and about half my size - though more fiesty than the rest of us put tofether. "If you payed more attention to our family, you would know that Warrior was in fact a tabby she-cat. I suppose you were too busy with Flower and Quince and Honey and all those other she-cats that like you so much. Too busy to notice that your daughter was being killed. And yes, it was Princess's fault." she snarls. My heart snaps into two. (TBC)